


A Tone Of Concentrated Resolution

by transfixme_quite



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:49:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transfixme_quite/pseuds/transfixme_quite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had liked her well enough at the wedding...</p>
<p>Sherlock tries to forget about John through Janine, and discovers much more in doing so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sherlock didn't have a case.  
  
What was worse, he was alone with his thoughts. If he thought any more about how annoyed he was that John was away on 'Sex Holiday', he thought he might scream. He'd been alone in 221B for two straight days, and Mrs. Hudson had been doing her best to keep him company, but there was only so much she could take. And Mycroft was off who knows where, not answering Sherlock's calls.  
  
Sherlock's phone lit up beside him with a text notification. If he said he wasn't hoping it was John, he'd be lying. A text from an unknown number, but the sender seemed to know him.  
  
 _From: Unknown_  
 _Hey Sherl... Wanted to thank you again for finding me someone to go home with. He was really fun._  
  
 _From Sherlock:_  
 _Janine. SH_  
  
Sherlock saved her number in his phone quickly, wondering why she was bothering to contact him. But he had liked her well enough at the wedding...   
  
_From Janine:_  
 _Yes, good job Mr. Detective. I did some sleuthing myself to find your #... Well I googled you anyway :)_  
  
 _From Sherlock:_  
 _Googling is as good a method as any. SH_  
  
 _From Janine:_  
 _WELL. I wanted to take you to dinner, as a thank you. And I just quite like being around you. Tonight ok?_  
  
Dinner. Sherlock had a slight aversion to that word since Irene. He realized, though, that Janine could indeed actually just mean a meal. Plus, he was getting anxious. A night out might do him some good.  
  
 _From Sherlock:_  
 _I know a place nearby. The owner always comps the meals for me. SH_  
  
   
  
\---  
  
   
  
Janine showed up at Angelo's shortly after Sherlock had. He waited outside the restaurant for her arrival, actually looking forward to the socializing. It was strange to him, but he tried to just go with it. She got out of the taxi, in a dark blue dress that fell just above her knees, with a flowing cowl neck, a pearl white iridescent shawl, and matching sparkling shoes. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her red lips parted into a lovely smile. Sherlock had forgotten completely how attractive she was.  
  
He smiled in return, offering his hand to her. She took his, and he led her into the restaurant, holding the door open for her.  They took his usual spot, near the window. Sherlock sighed, slightly nervous. She hadn't sat terribly close to him, but she was close enough that he could smell her perfume. Jasmine.  
  
"Sherlock!! How are you!" Angelo came over to the table in record time, slapping Sherlock on the back happily.  "It was certainly lonely without seeing you all that time you were gone. Glad to see you back, very glad. Anything you want, on the house, naturally."  
  
Janine looked at Sherlock, impressed. Sherlock smirked.  
  
"Have whatever you'd like." Sherlock said to her.  
  
"Is this your sister?" Angelo asked loudly. Sherlock's eyes snapped quickly to Angelo, confused. Janine scoffed.  
  
"Not his sister." She said, placing a hand on his cuff. Sherlock's confused gaze then snapped down to her hand, which was not actually touching him, but giving that illusion.  
  
"Ahhh yes, of course I'm sorry. It's always good to meet one of Sherlock's cousins. I'll be back with some wine!"  Angelo ran off, leaving Janine with her mouth hanging open.  
  
"He's something else." She said, removing her hand. Sherlock swallowed hard, then straightened his back, tilting his head to look at her. She simply smiled back at him. He was trying to read any ulterior motives on her, but couldn't find any.  
  
"So. The 'acceptably hot' sci fi fan..."  
  
"Yeah, about that." Janine chuckled. "He's... really nice. I imagine he might have done for that night, but we never got past a kiss. He was bloody awful!" Her laugh reverberated around the booth. It was warm to Sherlock; he chuckled with her.  "But you know, we did have fun. Thanks for trying. He might have worked hard at it, had I let him, but I didn't want to be disappointed. You know?"  
  
"Yes." He nodded and smiled. _Sexually active, but confident in it as well; confident enough to want to have sex, but not sleep with just anyone, even after spending all night attempting to find a one night stand._ Sherlock hadn't profiled anything or anyone in what seemed like forever, and this was comforting him, to a degree.  
  
"What about you, then?"  
  
Just as Sherlock was about to respond, Angelo came back with two glasses, menus, and a bottle of wine.  
  
"Hope you like the house red, it's a favourite of mine." Angelo said enthusiastically as he poured the wine into their glasses. Janine took a sip as Angelo awaited her critique.  
  
"Superb, sir." She said, with that charming smile. Sherlock relaxed in his seat a bit more, taking a sip of his own wine. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually eaten at Angelo's. He wondered if the food was as good as he told John it was. John had never complained, though.  John didn't have a sophisticated palette, anyway. He thought all the cakes he sampled in preparation for the wedding tasted the same, after all. There were distinct differences, even Sherlock could tell that. John complained about very little, when Sherlock thought about it. All things considered, that is.  
  
"And you, Sherlock, are you eating today?" Angelo broke Sherlock's train of thought. He saw Janine handing Angelo her menu, as she placed her hands on the table in front of her, one on top the other, looking at him patiently. Sherlock passed the menu to Angelo without looking at it.  
  
"Give me today's special." Sherlock said with a disarming smile, his confidence suddenly popping up strong. He unbuttoned his blazer, and scooted just the slightest bit closer to Janine. "What about me?" Sherlock repeated Janine's question, placing an arm up on the booth. "Just been solving crimes." He said smoothly, then began to wonder why he was trying to impress her. Before he finished the thought, she was already smiling through a sip of wine.  
  
"Anything you can talk about?"  
  
"Oh absolutely..."  
  
   
  
\---  
  
   
  
Sherlock and Janine walked arm in arm down Baker Street, laughing and enjoying the fresh night air.  
  
"You sure have been involved in a lot of crazy things, Sherl." Janine said, leaning her head on his shoulder as they walked. Sherlock furrowed his brow at this nickname she was insisting upon, but said nothing.  
  
They were fast approaching 221B, and Sherlock realized too late that he hadn't really thought the end of the night through. It was already midnight, and she was a bit sloshed. They both had finished the bottle of wine, but she'd had more than he had. He was feeling it, but nothing like John's stag night.  That night was something of a disaster, and he should really have noticed that John had spiked his beer. He actually didn't know why he even let John get it to begin with. But how much fun had they had... before the client came. Sherlock thought he could have lived in that moment forever, the two of them on their chairs, drunk, still drinking, trying to figure out who they were... It was a game they were playing, but even then it felt more like self discovery.  If Janine came in, it would be likely she'd sit in John's chair. That was John's chair. He didn't want anyone else in it. Not after that night. He wanted to remember it just like it was... the closeness, the gazing -  
  
"Are we going in or staying out here?" She laughed, nudging him.  "We've been standing here for a bit, I thought maybe this was your place. You alright?"  
  
"Yes, I'm fine. Wonderful." He smiled at her. The smile she returned was free, and her eyes were glazed over with lust. Sherlock cleared his throat. "Shall I call you a taxi?" He opened the door and showed her in.  
  
"Why is the B on the outside?" She said, seeing the inside of the building. "Which is yours?"  
  
"This way." He guided her up the stairs, though she seemed to be navigating perfectly well.  
  
"A cab would be nice." She said as they walked into his flat. She looked at the chairs, then to the couch, deciding the couch was a better destination. Sherlock was slightly relieved. "This is nice." She said. Her hand caressed the seat, and she crossed her legs, still gazing at Sherlock.  
  
"I like it."  
  
"You're all alone then?" She could have asked salaciously, Sherlock knew. But she hadn't. She was still giving him that look, but it seemed she was controlling it.  
  
"Tell me about you." He sat on the couch with her.  
  
"Not much to know. Single girl in London, working to live comfortably." She smiled, but there was a hint of sadness.  
  
"What do you do?"  
  
"Personal assistant. Of course. You probably knew that."  
  
"Making conversation is more polite, I'm told."  
  
"I don't know much about polite these days. I work for a vile man, but he pays well. I suppose it's not worth my dignity, but I manage."  
  
"Vile?"  
  
"....I shouldn't say anything. He's very private. Except when he wants something. Oh god, I need to stop talking." She laughed, smoothing her dress. She looked up at Sherlock, and he was watching her. "I actually met Mary through him. A client of his. She's so lovely."  
  
Sherlock filed the small bit of information away, knowing he could find her employer quite quickly. He let it go.  
  
"How long have you known her?"  
  
"Oh. Five years, give or take. She'd been coming to see my boss often for a few months, and we got to chatting there. We went to lunch one day and hit it off. She's been there for me, quite a lot actually. She knows how my boss can be, and that helped. I didn't have to explain to her. She just understood."  
  
"I see."  
  
"You going to call that cab for me?" Janine stretched slightly, yawning.  
  
"Do you work tomorrow?" Sherlock asked.  
  
"I do. Not really that far from here." Janine looked at him with playful suspicion.  
  
"I'd really like to see you again. Tomorrow night?"  
  
"Wow. Yeah I’d love to! I think we should go dancing...” Janine said with enthusiasm.  
  
Sherlock was surprised at her suggestion, but pleased. "Your cab should be here by now. I'll walk you out."  
  
"Oh you did call for one... I must have missed..."  
  
"Text. I know a lot of people in this city who can get things done for me, quickly."  
  
"That's a good resource."  
  
They walked down the stairs together, and he opened the front door to the building to see an idling taxi out front.  
  
"You know, I was almost sure you were going to ask me to stay the night." Janine said, as Sherlock opened the door to the taxi for her.  
  
"Janine, it's only our first date." He smiled, and kissed her on the hand.  
  
“First date?  I thought you were ...unavailable."  
  
"Well, Janine, the truth is... I don't currently have a partner." Sherlock spoke softly, placing his hand on top of hers. She couldn't contain her grin as she climbed into the car. Sherlock watched as she rode away, determined to find out who this vile man was that Janine was employed by, and what business he had with Mary.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little steamy on the second date.

Sherlock discovered after an hour that Janine wasn’t as appalling of a dancer as he’d initially thought. She just needed time and guidance. Her dress was longer, her touch lighter, and her temperament more drawn in than it had been the night before, and Sherlock couldn’t say he was disappointed by this. It was almost more comfortable to be around her like this, even if she had been slightly cautious with him to begin with. Her smile was still genuine, and he never caught her looking for an exit. In fact, she seemed to be studying him quite the same way he was studying her, save that he could do it at a glance, and she was lingering upon him.  
  
“You didn’t have to take me out tonight.” Janine broke the silence of the cab ride. She seemed serious, almost stoic. Sherlock tried to deflect with a hearty laugh.   
  
“Of course I didn’t. But I thought after a hard day at work, you could use a fun night out to dance away the stress. I’ve already told you how much I love dancing.”  
  
“Yes, which is exactly why I suggested it. I had fun, Sherlock, but you had more fun than I did. Except maybe when you dipped me, I think we were having an equal amount of fun in that moment.” She smiled.  “I suppose I feel a little bad we didn’t get to dance at the wedding. I would have done, but by the time I looked for you, you’d gone. I asked John where you were, but he said he didn’t know.”  
  
Sherlock perked up at the sound of John’s name, but couldn’t decide how to further ask about John and his reaction after Sherlock had left without looking like a fool desperate in love. He knew that’s what he was, but he’d be damned if anyone saw that in him.  
  
“Yes well, I’m a busy man.”  
  
“And yet you’ve spared time for me two nights in a row…” Janine’s tone was full of suspicion. The cab stopped in front of his place, with precise timing.  
  
“I can pay your way back home.” Sherlock offered. He began counting his bills when Janine touched his arm.  
  
“Are you really that busy?” She batted her eyelashes at him, and Sherlock felt his mouth go dry.  
  
“Ehm…” Sherlock swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. He hated being caught off guard.  
  
"Take her inside, lad!" The cab driver interjected, and Sherlock couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity. He paid the total, and helped Janine out of the car, leading her inside like he had the night before. His eyes fell on John's chair the second he entered the room, and he regretted letting her come upstairs.  
  
Janine let her hand find its way to Sherlock's, threading their fingers together. For the first time, Janine took charge of the situation, leading him over to his chair and pushing him into the seat. She sat on Sherlock's lap and stroked his hair, staring deep into his eyes. He stared back at her, unmoving.  
  
"You look frightened." She took note, but didn't back away.  
  
"Frightened? Of course I'm not frightened." Sherlock decided it was now or never. He put his actor's hat on, and went with the flow. His hand dropped heavily onto her knee, and he slid it slowly up her leg. She leaned in, pressing her lips to his with the perfect amount of pressure. His fingertips dug into her hip, as she opened his mouth with her tongue.  
  
The sensation of her tongue against his was different, but not very alluring. He hadn't thought it would be, but a sliver of worry had crossed his mind. He knew that if it had been John on his lap, kissing him just like this, that he wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything else. He would envelop himself into John's every pore, to ensure he gave John all the pleasure he ever wanted or deserved, and even more. He dug deeper into her flesh, and she yelped.  
  
"Did I hurt you?" Sherlock asked, his eyes shot open, his heart disappointed that he hadn't woken up from a bad dream to find himself in bed next to John. Janine had a mischievous look on her face.  
  
"Naughty detective. You like it rough, do ya?" She grabbed his hair, tugging it back. Sherlock drew in a sharp breath. He hadn't expected that. He did like it. And if he wouldn't admit it, his body was already betraying him. Janine shifted on his lap, the friction rubbing up against his growing erection. He growled lowly, involuntarily, and just for a moment, he had forgotten about John.  
  
But then his phone buzzed.  
  
Janine and Sherlock stared at each other again for several moments, knowing the moment was drifting farther away from them by the second.  
  
"I should get that." Sherlock whispered, and Janine nodded. He reached inside his jacket pocket, and she began stroking his hair again. It was a text from Mary.  
  
 _From M. Morstan:_  
 _John is trying to get me to eat calamari._  
  
"It's Mary." Sherlock announced. The text was pointless. He had no idea why Mary would send it, aside from his suggestion she not eat seafood.  
  
"Oh tell her I said hi!" Janine said. Suddenly, it clicked. Mary saw Sherlock as a friend. Friends talk to each other, even when there's nothing to say.  That's what he'd been told anyway. “Aren’t you going to respond?”  
  
Sherlock had been staring at the message, blankly. Janine pressed her cheek against Sherlock’s hair, still running her fingers through it. Sherlock huffed, and replied.  
  
 _From Sherlock:_  
 _I’m sure he’s not serious._  
  
 _From M. Morstan:_  
 _Of course he’s not serious. :) We miss you._  
  
“Aww, that was sweet. You didn’t tell her I said hi.” Janine nudged Sherlock. “A little embarrassed?”  
  
“Not embarrassed. They’ll want to know more if I tell them now, and they need to be focusing on each other right now.”  
  
“Oh Sherlock, they have the rest of their lives for that. You haven’t changed her name to Watson…” Janine cocked her head curiously.  
  
“Hmm.” Sherlock was barely listening, but was snapped out of his train of thought as soon as he felt Janine’s lips on his temple. He closed his eyes for a moment, then gently pushed her away. “I’ll call you a cab.”  
  
“Oh. Alright…” Janine was disappointed, Sherlock could tell. But he just couldn’t do it. He had come so close. Well, close for Sherlock anyway. “Are you sure I couldn’t just stay the night?” She was no longer trying to seduce him, but was still asking to stick around. Sherlock examined her shortly, then nodded.  
  
“You can stay in my room tonight. I do have some things to attend to, but please, make yourself comfortable. I’ll return later.” They both stood, and she smiled gratefully. Sherlock placed a chaste kiss to her face, grabbed his coat, and walked out of the flat, leaving Janine all alone.

  
  
\---

 

  
Sherlock stumbled into his residence at 9am the next morning, fully expecting the place to be empty. He spent the night doing the one thing he knew he shouldn't, but also the one thing he knew would work. All he wanted was to forget, and at this moment, he was lucky he remembered where he lived. He heard clanking in the kitchen, and it reverberated in his head like an echo.  
  
"J-John?" Sherlock croaked.  
  
"Well, look what the cat dragged in." Janine's voice bubbled and sparkled, and it was too damn early for that. "I made coffee, if you'll be needing any."  
  
Warm liquid sounded good to Sherlock, and he flopped into his chair, slumping, and wishing he had the energy to get the coffee himself. Luckily, Janine brought a cup out to him. It was then that he saw her, dressed in one of his shirts, and nothing else. His eyes scanned her legs: _Old scars from accidents, missed spots from shaving, tan lines, a preference for boy cut panties, though she wasn't wearing them._  
  
"Wasn't sure how you took it, so it's just black." She said, curling up into the chair across from him.  
  
Black. That's how John took it. Sherlock suddenly wished he had his morning tea instead. The needle does its job for only so long, after all. Sherlock savored the flavor of the coffee, imagining it being what John's lips would taste like first thing in the morning. Sherlock looked up, and saw Janine smiling at him. Across from him. In John's chair. It was bound to happen eventually, he thought. And here it was.  
  
"When are you leaving?" It came out harsher than Sherlock intended. Janine pressed her lips together and shook her head.  
  
"Soon. After a quick shower." She didn't ask the question that was evident in her face, and Sherlock was glad for it. "My shift begins at 10:30."  
  
"I've got cases today." He really didn't, save for this business of finding her employer, but he thought he'd just have her followed and that would be the end of that.  
  
"I'm sure. Lots of evil to defeat in London." She joked. Sherlock didn't respond. "You look tired. Must have been a busy night. When you said you'd be back, I thought -"  
  
"I am back." He cut her off. She nodded and took a sip of her coffee.  
  
"You're confusing, Mr. Holmes."  
  
"How's that?"  
  
"Just... it doesn't matter."  
  
"You thought we were going to have sex last night."  
  
"Well, yes."  
  
Once again, Sherlock didn't respond. They sat in silence for several moments before Janine stood up. She walked to Sherlock and ruffled his hair, then headed to the shower. Sherlock scowled, and finished his coffee. He wanted to sleep. He heard the water running in the bathroom, and shut his eyes, curling up in his chair, still holding his empty cup. He fell asleep quickly, hearing Janine leave the flat after 20 minutes or so, and he mentally noted how quickly she got ready for work.

 

\---

 

Sherlock had hoped he'd never had to hear the name Charles Augustus Magnussen in his day to day prospects, but there it was. His latest client had brought her plight to him, and it involved this disgusting man who took advantage of people's worst secrets. It was all too well-timed, as one of his homeless network had confirmed this was the man Janine worked for. Vile, indeed.  
  
He wondered how someone like Janine could continue working for such a man, but he thought about the things he'd done in his life that were questionable, and gave her the benefit of the doubt. What had begun as a way to forget about John was now the perfect opportunity to end this man who ruined lives for fun and profit. He was sure Janine wouldn't mind, considering what little she'd told him about the man.  
  
But he wondered even more what Mary had to do with it. She'd been a client of his, Janine had said. For several years, in fact. The only business he was in was blackmail. What did he have on Mary?  
  
Sherlock knew if he didn't call Janine, she'd probably move on to someone else, and she was his sure thing. He couldn't let that happen. But first thing was first. Careful not to break the old thing, Sherlock moved John's chair out of the living area, and upstairs into John's old room. There was no way he'd allow Janine in that chair ever again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solidifying the "relationship", Sherlock realizes how badly he wants intimacy.

Janine had avoided Sherlock for a week straight. After the second day, he stopped contacting her, and after the fourth day, he gave up hope she would reply. So when she showed up at the flat with a batch of fresh made cookies, he was slightly surprised.

"This is unexpected." Sherlock stood to the side to allow her entry.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I had to think about what you said, and what I wanted. You're a difficult man." She set the cookies down on the kitchen table, and made her way to the couch. Sherlock grabbed a cookie and took a bite, listening. "I needed to decide if this was worth it."

"Are the cookies some form of consolation?"

"No. You're difficult, but you're good. I think I can handle your... eccentricities. It is worth it. You are worth it." She smiled, awaiting his response.

Sherlock was motionless for just a moment, then came to sit next to her. He wiped a crumb off of his face, moving closer. Draping an arm over the back of the couch behind her, he moved in for a kiss. She hesitated, then closed the distance between them. _Dry lips, most likely due to the Rimmel brand Lasting Finish lipstick she's wearing._

"Thank you." Sherlock breathed when he pulled away, and twirled a piece of her hair with a finger.

"I don't know why. I could make my life so much simpler by not doing this. But you're different. What at first made me think you could never be with me has been what's drawn me to you. It's ridiculous." She laughed, leaning into his space.

"I am a ridiculous man." Sherlock's voice rumbled, and Janine sighed. She still looked uncertain, but willing and open. Sherlock almost wished he felt something for her in that moment.

 

\---

 

Janine began to make it a habit to stay at 221B, and Sherlock in turn suddenly always had business to attend to. Janine never questioned him, but made sure to kiss him at every exodus.

Sherlock knew he was being monitored by Magnussen now, not only because he started bringing Janine lunch at work, but because Sherlock was actually spending his nights in the drug den.

Overall, he was hoping his 'drug habit' would be what caught the eye of the man who gathered secrets and shame, but would be willing to rely on Janine being what grabbed this man's attention if need be. Surely he knew she'd been staying at Sherlock's flat.

Most nights, Sherlock wasn't even actually using. He would lay on a dirty mattress, in old clothes, wondering what he could have done differently in the two years he was gone. Insulting John was the furthest thing from his mind when he said he was worried John might be 'indiscreet'. After all, it was John who insisted on writing up the cases they worked on; even the cases they weren't legally supposed to talk about. History taken into consideration, Sherlock made the right decision not telling John he was alive.

And yet, somehow, Sherlock still felt like he'd done something wrong. It was something he hadn't been able to shake since the moment Mary had told him she'd talk John around. John wasn't supposed to have needed someone to do that. Sherlock's presence was supposed to be more than enough on its own.

Sherlock used six hours prior to arriving back at his flat that morning. He'd later rattle off a systematic schedule of times he would use to ensure the drugs would be in his system if he was arrested at any given moment, as a trap for Magnussen, but the truth was he'd come across another lonely night where he was thinking too much. He didn't even know anymore if he was avoiding Janine or his own flat itself.

If he were an outsider, Sherlock would explain that _the man was avoiding the flat, because it held too many memories. The fact that he comes back home every day just in time for the morning coffee his girlfriend makes for him is the proof. If it was her he'd been avoiding, she wouldn't even be there at all._

But Sherlock couldn't think straight to save his life right now. Sherlock's lips had been stimulated more times this month than they had been in his entire life leading up to that point. This includes any experiments he'd done in his past, or pranks pulled on him at uni.

Without a thought, Sherlock walked into the flat and straight to the loo. He was stopped in his tracks by the sight of Janine in nothing but her panties, which were already on their way down. The water in the bath was running, and there was a lingering scent of lilies in the air. Janine dropped her garment on the floor, then turned to step into the steaming tub when she caught Sherlock out of the corner of her eye.

"Darling." She smiled, not startled and not bothering to cover herself or rush into the water. "Care to join me?" She eased into the tub, letting out a loud, nearly obscene sigh. Her back was to him now, but she raised her arm, and crooked her finger at him, signaling him over.

Sherlock would never be able to answer why he complied. He would not remember stripping off his clothes, but he would never forget the warmth of the water, the sound of the splashing as he stepped in, the way the tips of her hair floated gently as she sat up to let him sit behind her. The water felt good on his skin. He hadn't bathed in days. Janine didn't seem to be complaining, though. She rested her head on his chest, otherwise unmoving, and lightly moaned in her relaxation.

"This is nice." She spoke through a breath.

A simple statement said so much. Sherlock didn't know how to respond. His fingertips grazed her hips. She placed her hands on top of his and guided them farther around her, so his palms laid flat on her belly. Sherlock noted she was bigger in stature than Irene Adler. She was approximately the same height as Molly, but at least two sizes bigger, and Irene had been even smaller than Molly. Janine's hips and backside were rounded and full, like nothing he’d ever paid attention to before. Sherlock could feel a scar on Janine's side, and dragged a finger along the raised skin.

"Appendix." She said.

"Yes." Sherlock snipped. _Habit._

"Doctor mucked it up a bit. Not entirely sure how he got his license."

"How recent?"

"Two years, I suppose. It actually burst. He didn't get it all out on the first go. Had to go in a second time, after I'd already been sewn up. Was in a bit of a rush, wasn't careful with the reopening. Left me that lovely scar." She patted Sherlock's hand, then interlaced their fingers.  "You alright, Sherl?"

"Yes of course I'm alright, why wouldn't I be alright?"

"Oh just.. we're naked in the bath together. I'm really quite pressed up against you, but there's been no reaction. Verbally or physically. Just wondering if you're alright."

"I'm tired. I'm working on a case. My mind is elsewhere." His thumb caressed her hand, and she nodded.

"How's the bath help as far as working on the case?"

"Stimulates me." Sherlock kissed the back of her neck. "Sometimes tea isn't enough."

Janine gripped Sherlock's leg, and he held her tighter against his chest; the pressure of his palm on her belly made her mewl. It felt good to Sherlock to have someone this close to him, but he didn’t want more from this. His eyes began to sting, and he inhaled sharply, trying to shake it off.

“If you need anything… you know I’m here for you. I ...I’ve grown to really care for you.” Janine said, rubbing Sherlock’s thigh. Sherlock began humming absent mindedly. People generally didn’t care for Sherlock, and to hear those words spoken aloud lulled him.

"You're so soft." Sherlock was barely audible, and he leaned his head on hers. He continued exploring the flesh of her stomach, moving from her scar to examine where she curved. Her body was by no means perfect, nothing like The Woman. Her stomach wasn't completely flat. Sherlock couldn't feel her ribs without trying. Her breasts were buoyant in the water. Soft was the only word in his head to describe her. Soft was comforting. Soft was nice.

He placed another kiss on her shoulder, admiring her olive skin, and pulled her hair back out of his way to kiss her again, on the back this time. _Freckles on her back, from suntanning, gathered more densely on the top of her shoulders, where the sun would be more likely to hit._

Janine turned around to face Sherlock, and he had not been expecting that one bit. She positioned herself between his legs, as unassuming as one could be when they were naked. She leaned in and kissed Sherlock softly. He returned the kiss eagerly; he'd had enough practice in making her think he was enjoying it by then. He drew her closer, his hands on the small of her back. She laughed lightly into his kiss, forced to straddle him due to being pulled closer.

That's when Sherlock froze. It got too real. He hadn't meant to pull her into his lap. As much as he was using Janine as a pawn in this case, and although he didn't have any romantic feelings for her, he did like her, despite himself. Sherlock couldn't go through with it. Maybe in another life, when there would be no pretense. Maybe some day when Sherlock finally stopped wishing his phone would just ring and it'd be John on the other end.

Maybe Sherlock was scared. He'd never admit it. But Janine could see. It was a split second between when she saw his expression, and when she left him alone in the bath, grabbing a towel to dry herself off. He cleared his throat, taking some soap to actually wash up. Janine brushed her hair in the mirror, looking at Sherlock through the reflection.

"Mary and John got back from holiday yesterday. She called, wanted to meet me for lunch today. Maybe you can go see John while we're out?"

"You won't be needing lunch today then."

"Or you two could join us." Janine offered an alternative. Sherlock huffed a laugh.

"I'm sure the good doctor will be busy at his clinic."

They sat in silence for a few more moments. Janine turned around and looked at Sherlock directly. "I love you."

Sherlock looked at Janine oddly, then smiled, mischievously. "You've got odd timing, darling. I love you, too."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock asks for Mycroft's assistance, and spends the evening with Janine.

There was no way Janine loved Sherlock, he determined. The mere fact that she said it annoyed him to no end. He sent his recruit, Billy Wiggins, to get the word out to the press that he'd been spending far too much time at the drug den. He hoped within the week that there would be a news story.

Love. What a useless emotion. Where did it get anyone? It got John a woman with a fake name and a secret past. Sherlock hadn’t been idle in his research of Mary, but he still hadn’t gotten very far in finding much out beyond the origin of her false identity. John hadn't called or texted once since he got back. In fact, even while they were away, he'd only heard from Mary. John promised nothing would change, and Sherlock should have known better. The moment a person has to tell you nothing will change is the moment it all does.

Sherlock didn’t make the connection between his exponentially rising erratic behavior and the fact that Janine was surely having lunch with Mary at that very moment. He had been checking the flat for any fingerprints Mary might have left there while wedding planning. He wasn’t in the habit of dusting, and he hoped he had found a few. There was no way to know for sure until he got them analysed.

Sherlock checked his mobile. _Nothing._ He couldn't remember the last time his phone had been so quiet. _Isn't it hateful?_

 

\---

 

_From Janine:_  
 _Lunch was wonderful. Mary and John had great fun while they were away. She's got that newlywed glow. :)_  
  
  
 _From Sherlock:_  
 _Pregnant. SH_  
  
  
 _From Janine:_  
 _What! She didn't tell me! Ah it all makes sense now! Good thing I didn't tell her my secret if she's going to be hiding things. ;)_  
  
  
 _From Sherlock:_  
 _Indeed. SH_  
  
  
 _From Janine:_  
 _What do you want for dinner?_  
  
  
 _From Sherlock:_  
 _Not hungry. SH_  
  
  
 _From Janine:_  
 _Chinese it is then! See you soon love. xx_

 

Sherlock stared at Mycroft, who had come over at Sherlock’s request. It was a terrible time for him to be seeing Mycroft, as he didn't want to be reminded of what an idiotic idea it was to "get involved", but he needed his help. 

"You've been quiet." Mycroft noted.

"You've hardly been answering my texts."

"You know I prefer to call."

"And yet I've not received a call, either."

"Military business in the Philippines, brother. How's Janine?"

"I'd prefer you stop spying on me." Sherlock spat.

"And I'd prefer you stop visiting your addict friends. It's not a good environment for you, especially right now. Besides, I wouldn't call it 'spying'. More looking out for you."

"I'm not using." _Lie._

"Hmm. And what is this ...’thing’ you have going with Mary's maid of honour?"

Sherlock winced. Mycroft just had to remind him, didn’t he?

"Please take this, and have it analysed. I need the information quite quickly."

"Fingerprints. You're not taking this to Detective Inspector Lestrade? Seems menial."

"He doesn't need to be involved. You'll have more information than he could give me. It's important."

"Of course. I certainly have nothing better to do."

Sherlock sighed, rubbing his temples. Mycroft turned to head out when they heard the chattering of women and rustling of plastic bags at the bottom of the stairs. Mycroft stopped, turning back to Sherlock with a smug smile.

"You've a visitor." He crooned, as the stomping up the stairs got closer.

"Sherl!" Janine called out, reaching the entrance. "Oh, hello!" She smiled at Mycroft upon seeing him, and held out her hand to shake his. "I'm Janine."

"Mycroft. Sherlock's older brother." He shook her hand, and she looked surprised and pleased. "It's good to finally meet you, Sherlock has told me so much about you." He looked at Sherlock, happily stirring the pot.

"Has he now? Darling, you old romantic." A slight blush creeped up her ears, as Sherlock crossed the room, and placed a kiss on her cheek. He took the food from her, and put it on the kitchen table.

"Mycroft was just leaving." Sherlock called from the kitchen.

"Oh no, couldn't you stay for dinner? I brought more than enough. I could call up Mrs. Hudson and -"

"No I really couldn't impose on you two lovebirds." Mycroft's voice was soaked in sarcasm, and Sherlock groaned, trying to will him out of the solar system.

"Aww, well perhaps next time then." Janine's shoulders slumped in adorable disappointment.

"Perhaps. Very nice meeting you, Janine."

"You too, Myc!"

Mycroft stopped for a moment at the shortened version of his name, but then smiled and made his exit. Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief, fixing up their plates for dinner.

"How was work?" Sherlock inquired enthusiastically. He wasn't truly interested, but it got her talking about the office, and he'd already gotten a lot of information from her about where things were without even realizing what she'd given away.

"I've got to be honest." She leaned close to him, her hands on his shoulders, lips on his ear. "I skipped out. Mary and I spent the day together."

"Oh? Nurse Watson didn't have patients to attend to?"

"Mary isn't the only nurse at the clinic, you know." Janine smacked Sherlock's ass, startling him. He gave her a disapproving look that melted into a warm grin.

"Then the newlyweds already need time apart."

"Maybe. You know how people say 'the honeymoon is over' - well, it literally is! She seems really happy though. Really. John's a good man. Don't know how he ever got mixed up with you." She playfully teased, but it stung Sherlock. She didn't see. Sherlock pushed it down and presented the steaming plates with a grand gesture, making Janine laugh.

“You always know just what I need.” Sherlock said, pulling out her chair. She shrugged and nodded.

“I’m learning.”

Her bright smile distracted him for a moment. But then he remembered. _I love you._

There was no way.

 

\---

 

It took some doing, but Sherlock yielded to Janine's request to share music. She was eager to play Daft Punk, Thin Lizzy and Sigur Rós for him, but he couldn't really tell her who he was playing for her. He had an iPod filled with music he enjoyed immensely, but every file was unlabeled. He cared more about what it sounded like than who it was. They laid on the floor next to each other, enjoying the sounds and the proximity.

"Sherlock." Janine broke Sherlock’s train of thought as he listened to the sound of bass lines and electronic drums.

"Mm."

"Are you a virgin?"

Sherlock sat up quickly, his defenses building around him faster than he could tear them down. He pulled his knees to his chest, sitting very straight and guarded.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything, oh I've gone and mucked it all up now..." She placed her hand on his shoulder, her big eyes looking deep into his. _Regret. Embarrassment. Pity._

"When I love someone, it's because I've gotten to know them. Or I admire what they've shown me of themselves. It's not because of any ulterior motives to get them into bed." _Sincere._ "I enjoy being around you." _Half-truth._ "I don't think rushing into things is necessary." _Deflecting fear._

"Sherlock Holmes, you'll be the first man to make me wait. I'm here if you want it." She spoke softly, kissed Sherlock on the cheek. His body relaxed, and he stretched out his legs. He laid back down, and Janine rested her head on his stomach.

_I'm here if you want it._ Why was it so familiar? Sherlock tapped his fingers along to the beat of the song, remembering Moriarty tapping his fingers just the same way. When he remembered the tapping. John had reminded him of it. _Conductor of light._ Sherlock closed his eyes, stroking Janine’s hair. _Just stay like this. Slight weight as a reminder someone is here. No speaking. Soft hair. Soft._

Her phone sounded. _Always something._ She fiddled around for a few seconds trying to get to her messages. The angle she was at meant Sherlock couldn't see who was texting her. She jolted up once she read it, seeming both irritated and afraid.

"I have to go. Boss needs me." She stood quickly, grabbed her things with hardly a look toward Sherlock. Slowly he sat up, watching her rush about to leave. She made her way to the door, then she remembered something.

"I'll be back." Janine said, shuffling quickly back over to Sherlock. She placed a kiss on his hairline, and stroked his curls, then ran out the building. Sherlock wasted no time in grabbing his coat and following after her to see what was so urgent at work this late at night. It was bound to be something insidious.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At home by himself for the first time in a while, Sherlock starts to slip. When Janine returns and asks him questions, it leads him into a nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very confusing, because Sherlock is very confused. Just, fair warning.

Sherlock stayed in the shadows, not a difficult feat at that time of night. Several blocks away, he saw Janine enter an unmarked car. He hailed a taxi, directing the cabbie to follow it. As he suspected, it took her straight to Magnussen's building. She scurried inside, and he knew he couldn't follow without being seen. Too many bright lights and cameras. He waited in the cab, watching, and saw Magnussen meet Janine in the lobby. He grabbed her arm, jerking her close to his body, and the look on her face disturbed Sherlock.  
  
Janine was a very self assured person, full of confidence, and even if at times it meant she was too forward for his taste, it was one of the many things he admired about her. But in the presence of Magnussen, she reverted into a child. Frightened and obedient. He couldn't make out what was being said, but she nodded, eyes to the floor, and the man dropped her arm forcefully, laughing in her face. She smoothed out her dress and followed him into the depths of the building.  
  
There was nothing else Sherlock could do. And he was raging inside because of it.  
  
\---  
  
Sherlock couldn't remember the last time he was at home by himself at night. Since he and Janine had made things "official", she'd unofficially moved in, and Sherlock had been spending all his nights on a dirty mattress surrounded by people groaning in pain. He'd gotten used to the miserable noise. It was quiet in the flat.  
  
He'd been staring at the empty space where John's chair had been for approximately an hour. His mind was racing, thoughts incoherent. Worrying about Janine, seething at the lies Mary was telling, impatience to hear back from Mycroft about those fingerprints. There was a lingering thought that kept trying to push its way forward, some kind of pinch, and Sherlock wanted nothing to do with it.  
  
Sherlock jumped out of his chair and grabbed his slipper. He didn't have to dig far to get hold of a gorgeous, nicotine enriched, addictive cigarette. He lit it up, inhaling long and slow. It felt better than any drug Sherlock could desire. _Feel the warmth circulating through your bones. Alive enough to feel death creeping slowly into you._  
  
 _Am I pretty? ...This._ Why was John's stag night coming back to him? Sherlock looked down, could almost see John's hand on his knee. If only the client hadn't come. _Yeah but am I a pretty lady?_  
  
There was a real reason Sherlock didn't answer. Something beyond actually not knowing who Madonna was. The simple solution would have been to do a quick search on his mobile or laptop to be able to play the game. Drunk as they were, the idea had crossed his mind. He hadn't imagined John would ask about being pretty, though.  
  
John had a very bad habit of trying to figure Sherlock out instead of asking him anything directly. Answering the "pretty" question would give John some sort of template as to what Sherlock likes. Not even The Woman knows what Sherlock likes, and that's her profession to know. But John shouldn't have had to ask via a silly drinking game. Truth is, Sherlock had no opinion on this "Madonna". And who the hell knows if John would have agreed if he had.  
  
But Sherlock has an opinion on John.  
  
"You're an idiot." The words bounced off the wall as if the room was empty. As Sherlock looked around, he realised it was.  
  
 _I'm here if you want it._ It wasn't Janine's voice anymore, and Sherlock remembered when he'd heard it before. Drunken John, asleep on the couch while the nurse/client tried to give her story. He looked at his cigarette. He hadn't taken a drag in a good few minutes, and it had burnt almost halfway through, ash threatening to fall to the ground. He tapped it off, then extinguished it in a glass ashtray. _I'm getting the urge to steal an ashtray._  
  
"Why haven't you called, John?" Sherlock curled up into his chair, and fell asleep.  
  
\---  
  
Sherlock groaned, feeling a cold draft. He pulled his sheet up over his body for warmth, burrowing deeper into his mattress. Fingertips lightly traced their way over his back and ribs, and his eyes shot open.  
  
"Did you bring me to bed, love?" Sherlock knew it was Janine in bed behind him. He was almost grateful to not have woken up with a crick in his neck due to sleeping in the chair, but he was unsure why being dragged to his room didn't wake him.  
  
"What happened to you while you were away?" She was quiet, concern coating her voice.  
  
"If I remember correctly, it was you who went away last night." He turned around to face her. She was still fully clothed. The clock behind her read 6am. Whatever Magnussen had needed hadn't taken long, it seemed. He gazed at her, examining. _Eyes red rimmed, but dry. Cried recently, but not in the last hour._ "Are you alright?" His worry was real, but he thought it would still be useful in getting information.  
  
"I remember the news stories when you died. Two years, you were gone. And as I looked at you tonight, trying to make sure you were comfortable, I saw all those scars. They're not really that old. It must still hurt. What happened?"  
  
Sherlock maneuvered an arm around Janine, pulling her close to him. She snuggled up close, wrapping her arm around his waist, and leaning her head on his shoulder. He could hear her breath, feel it on his skin.  
  
"I'd been captured several times. Most were my own doing. Some weren't. Either way, I was interrogated. 'Persuaded' to give information. Some captors were easier to evade than others. I did what I had to do. Endured what I had to. There was no other way." Sherlock thought he felt something wet on his skin. He brushed a thumb over Janine's freshly tear-stained cheek and sighed.  
  
"Why, Sherlock? Why go through any of it?" She shook her head, confused.  
  
"I did it for John." It had come out before Sherlock even had a chance to think about it. He hadn't even said those words to the man they were about, and yet he told this woman.... This amazing person who put up with his idiosyncrasies and was patient and understanding. "I don't know why anymore."  
  
"You love him."  
  
"Janine, I love _you_."  
  
"Yeah, maybe. But maybe we said it too fast. Maybe sex isn't the only thing you're not ready for. Have you seen your wounds? You let that happen to you, for him? That's something else, Sherlock. That's something else." She sounded upset, but she held him closer. Sherlock closed his eyes, biting his lip. A tear trickled from his own eye, and he wiped it away without a word.  
  
\---  
  
 _Janine brought out a large breakfast, everything Sherlock could have wanted and more. Anything he was hungry for, it was there.  The light from the rising Sun shown in the bay window, illuminating the wood floors and reflected off of the glass kitchen table. Lilac and yellow patterned walls seemed to glow in the sunlight. She rounded the table, kissing Sherlock deeply, pouring him a glass of fresh squeezed lemonade. The flavour filled him with satisfaction and contentment. She hugged him tightly, whispering in his ear, "Glad to see you've pulled, Sherlock." It wasn't Janine's voice. Sherlock turned to look, and saw John smiling down at him. The room went dark as John walked out, toward a small silhouetted figure. The food on the table was rotten. A tire iron slammed into Sherlock's side, and the pain seared through him. "Just the two of us against the world." John slammed his face into Sherlock's nose. "One word, Sherlock! One word, that's all I would have needed!" Sherlock's hand wrote indecipherable words on a paper. He ripped the page out of the notebook, crumbling it up. The wad burst into flames and Sherlock threw it across the room, lighting the flat. "I almost made contact so many times." John walked out of the room into the arms of a very pregnant blonde woman. Horns grew from her head as she wrapped her arms around John. "Oh Sherlock. Neither of us were the first."_  
  
Sherlock woke up in a sweat. It was only 9am. Janine was fast asleep next to him. He considered waking her, but thought better of it. He checked his phone and saw a missed call from Mycroft. Sighing heavily, he rolled out of bed and returned the call.  
  
"Brother." Mycroft answered.  
  
"What did you find?"  
  
"Strangely not much. The prints link to an American agent. But the information is classified."  
  
"Can't you bypass it?" Sherlock tried to keep his voice down, unsuccessfully.  
  
"There's only so much I can do, Sherlock. That's all the information I have. Whose are they?"  
  
"It doesn't matter. Thank you."  
  
"If you tell me, I can help you."  
  
"Don't worry yourself." Sherlock hung up. All he could do now was work on getting those letters back for Lady Smallwood. It was possible he could get some leverage working from that angle. He didn't know what else to do.  
  
He looked at Janine, still asleep, wishing he didn't feel so lost.


End file.
